While I jogged this morning, fighting gravity up the hills while my left sock drooped into my shoe, sweat dripped down my back, and my brain took inventory that “nothing hurts yet,” I felt the glory of an April day in every sense.
I smelled sweet honeysuckle. I heard crazy cicadas. I watched the new green of baby leaves against a blue sky, and the road rolling by under my feet as I tried not to crush random cicadas struggling on their backs. A breeze stirred the air, while the morning sun warmed my skin, in a perfect spring balance. Just right. Like a caramel and fudge banana split under a blanket of homemade whipped cream.
It was a diamond of a day.
lauralanni 
Ode To Inbox Words by Dale 4/1/34
Oh, the Inbox haphazardly in such disarray
More arrive each-and-every single day
Primary, Promotions, Social, Updates
Labels and folders verily accumulate
Issuant emails more arrive everyday
So many promotions no attention do I pay
Dispatched to folders labeled so much trash
As are deleted, reappearing more the fast
Keeping up seems the impossible task
News goes unread and deadlines pass
The follow-up notices over run their date
Efficacies and orders become second rate
Pursuit of the empty, zero be my goal
the bottom of this, never to see bowl
Friends wonder is he still, still alive
Haven’t heard from him, did he survive
Social wants me to join
Update askes me to purloin
No labels want to label me
Primaries invite me to see
Oh, to gang select and then delete
T’would be such the empowering feat
Like with a witch’s wand to be waved
Be gone all emails,
hours of the day t’would be saved.